Hypotheses on stuff you care about

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February 14, 2014

John doesn’t believe in “The One,” which is fine and sounds more harsh than it is. Specifically, he doesn’t believe two people are undeniably destined for each other, that they’re this perfectly-matched pair that the universe is set on bringing together so they can begin this beautiful, effortless relationship, and continue to mesh magically till the end of their days, living happily ever after. Which is to say, he thinks no relationship is perfect and every relationship takes a lot of hard work, compromise, sacrifice, and the like. He thinks it’s not all sunshine and rainbows and sometimes it sucks and sometimes you’re just total shit heads to each other…but you work through it.

And hey, I completely agree with him on this. It’s not always easy. There are some tough days.

But I believe. Here’s why.

He Made Me More Excited About Life

Before I met John, I was entirely content with being single–even permanently. Whatever, I had so much life to live, and none of my ideas involved a significant other. I never felt lonely or incomplete, nor was I bothered by being the only single person in a group of couples. It didn’t even cross my mind to care about that. But then I met him, and soon I had this relationship to work into my life blueprint. And I wasn’t just okay with it; I was excited about it. I was already pretty gung-ho and enthusiastic about exploring this world and finding my place in it, but everything sounded way, way more fun when I considered doing it with him. I had no idea my future could seem so much better than it already did.

I Wanted to Be Around Him and I Didn’t Even Know Him

Within, like, a day of meeting John, I knew I wanted to hang out with him and I had no idea why. I was new in Houston, and I wanted specifically him to show me the city. But why? That’s so weird. And I remember telling my sister I’d quickly realized I was doing things to get his attention, too, which baffled me. I’d strategically–but sort of subconsciously–enter a room he was in and say something random, hoping we’d get a conversation going. Again, after only about a day. Something in my brain just knew.

I Felt Way More Comfortable Around Him Than I Should Have With Someone I Barely Knew

The first time I went to his house, I came in PJs and brought a toothbrush. It was like he was a dear old friend and I knew we’d be up late and I’d just crash there. I’d been in Houston all of a month and already I was sleeping over at a buddy’s. This is my story, and yet even I realize how absurd this sounds.

Our Relationship Began With 4 Back-to-Back Dates

Okay, they weren’t really dates so much as they were just watching TV or making spiked hot chocolate. But the point is, we were together four nights in a row before we both thought, whoa, we’re spending a lot of time together. Four nights in a row? Who does that? And then we kind of just shrugged and moved on.

There Were No Games or Questions

We didn’t wait a specific amount of time to call or respond to a text. We didn’t worry about seeming pushy or needy. We didn’t think about what we were doing or analyze where this was going. It was just easy. It felt comfortable and good and right. We just went with it. No drama.

I Happily Made Exceptions for Him

I stayed up late and drank alcohol on school nights. I slept in and skipped the gym. I bent my strict diet rules for ice cream dates. I did fun stuff on the weekends instead of laundry and work. These are things I would have never believed my ultra-disciplined self would eventually do. But I did it all with a huge smile on my face.

He Was the First Guy I Said “I Love You” To

I’m a very literal person–it used to really piss people off until I developed better social skills–and as such, I choose my words very carefully. Plus, the L word? I mean, that’s big. So I always assumed I’d know when it was love, and I’d never say it until it was. John said it first, early one morning. I was thrilled, but didn’t say it back. Again, it’s a big deal. I thought about it all day, and pretty soon I was sure–I loved him, too. He was leaving my house later that night, and I walked him to the door and gave him a hug, and said it: “I love you.” (Actually I sort of choked it out and had to repeat myself because he couldn’t understand me.) He smiled and we hugged and kissed, and he left. I walked upstairs to my bedroom, sat down…and tried not to vomit everywhere. I was shaky and light-headed. A big, big deal.

We Started Talking About Marriage, Kids, and Growing Old Together Around the 2-Month Mark

And it wasn’t weird or uncomfortable. We smiled at how crazy it would seem to other people if they knew, but it wasn’t crazy to us. We just chatted about this stuff like we were discussing what movie to go see. Not that we felt they were trivial topics, but more that it seemed reasonable and logical for us to consider these things.

He Went Home With Me to Indiana for Christmas, Also After Only 2 Months

I’m not kidding when I say the possibility of us not working out and then me awkwardly coming back alone or with someone else next year didn’t even occur to me. Nor did I think much about the fact that this was a pretty big relationship milestone to be reaching so soon. It seemed way weirder to me to not include him in my holiday festivities than it did to bring him along. Just after we made our Indiana trip plans, I did Thanksgiving with his family.

He Made Me Feel 100% Secure

At some point in our relationship, I became relatively unconcerned with how I looked around John. That’s never happened for me with any other guy. I’m not a particularly secure person, at least in terms of my physical appearance. But John consistently told me that although he thinks I’m gorgeous, it’s my heart and mind he’s in love with–and I believed him. Somehow I could just sense his sincerity…and it felt so nice.

I Moved in With Him After 5 Months

It was supposed to be temporary until I found a new apartment, but we were delighted to realize officially living together worked for us. We’ve been roomies ever since.

He’s Making Me Feel Differently About Kids

It’s not that I thought I for sure I didn’t want them, it’s just that the whole parenthood thing wasn’t super appealing to me. As I’ve fallen more and more in love with him, though, I’ve warmed up to the idea, mainly because I’m so excited to give him the babies I know he wants and see him be the fantastic daddy I know he’ll be. (I originally wrote “I can’t wait, ” but I can TOTES wait. I can wait a good, long looonnnggg while.)

He’s the Only Other Person I’d Rather Spend Time With Than Myself

I think even without any of the above, this simple fact is proof for me that John’s “The One.” I need a significant amount of alone time, and I’m naturally a major loner–so much that I think it would probably creep you out to know how long I could go without human interaction and still be perfectly happy. But aside from my required solitude, I’ll always choose being with him over being alone. I can’t say that for anyone else in this world.

So yes, I believe in “The One.” You can’t convince me there’s another person out there who could make me write all that.

December 17, 2013

So-called pessimists are used to hearing this kind of talk from family and friends. I should know–most of those closest to me consider me more or less a pessimist, and never fail to remind me of it.

I’ve always kind of felt they were a little off in their evaluation, though. Like, a naturally negative person? Me? It doesn’t seem right. My observations don’t seem negative to me; they just seem real. They just reflect reality. And besides, if I really pressed them on it, I know the same people calling me a pessimist would agree I present the sunshine-and-rainbows side of things just as often. I’m an idealist if there ever was one.

So what the hell? Clearly, others are noting something that’s different in me from themselves (god, what else is new?), but if it isn’t pessimism, what is it?

I have an idea.

They Call You a Pessimist…

My loved ones constantly point out that I “find something wrong with everything.” Well, you know what? That’s because there is something wrong with everything. You follow? As in, nothing’s perfect, right? I’m not trying to be a Debbie Downer; I’m just trying to consider all possibilities. All angles. All outcomes. Good and bad.

Now if I were a pessimist, wouldn’t I be all doom-and-gloom and find every situation completely hopeless and not see any good in anything? Wouldn’t I be feeling like the world is unfair and nothing ever works out and no choice is a good choice and so on?

See? I’m not negative; I’m just real. I’m just careful and deliberate and conscientious and painstaking.

I’m just a strategic thinker.

…But Maybe You’re Just a Strategic Thinker

According to the researchers at Gallup, publisher of the StrengthsFinder 2.0 book, the Strategic theme showing up in my top strengths means I’m able to see repercussions of an action or plan more easily than others. When faced with a decision, my brain goes down a million possible paths, visualizes where each one likely leads, and either stores the option for later comparison or eliminates it.

I like a rosy picture as much as the next person, but I’m unable to ignore the what ifs. That’s not pessimism; that’s strategic thinking.

The World is Lucky to Have You

Apparently, the ability to anticipate possible obstacles “…is not a skill that can be taught. It is a distinct way of thinking, a special perspective on the world at large,” says Gallup. Well, how ’bout that? And we can agree this is a highly-valuable skill to possess, right? A brain that sees multiple futures and informs and warns others accordingly?! Hell yeah. That’s, you might say, a helpful person. That’s, perhaps, a caring person.

That’s not, necessarily, a Negative Nancy.

So, let me be the first to say: Thank you, “pessimists.”

***

Discuss

Have you been called a pessimist? Have you maybe wrongly called someone one?

(It took me a solid two weeks post-proposal to fully realize what actually happened, and based on the undertone of disbelief in those words above that just came out of me, I apparently still haven’t wrapped my head around the fact that John is going to be my husband and I’m going to be his wife. Like…what? WHAT?! We’re getting m a r r i e d … ???)

People seem to be interested in the story and the ring, so here are some fun tidbits:

The Proposal

I unknowingly set the scene by talking my face off about the memories we had together just before he popped the question.

My family was on a plane here (Houston) when he did it, so we got to celebrate with them shortly after.

I knew they were coming, and I thought maybe John might ask me while they were here, but I was sure he wouldn’t do it that day because I knew it was really important to him to ask my dad in person first. And he hadn’t talked to my dad yet. Or so I thought…

John flew to Indiana two weeks prior to the proposal to surprise my dad (the rest of the family knew he was coming) and ask him for his blessing to ask me. I thought he was in Austin at a soccer clinic.

I was hung over and out-of-town that day he was in Indiana–a plan devised by my future sisters-in-law to keep me from suspecting anything.

After John asked him, my dad was so excited and drank so many celebratory drinks he missed work the next day (this may be my favorite part of the whole story).

John’s brother hired a photographer, Leslie Cervantez, for the proposal, who got all kinds of shots paparazzi-style (all photos in this post are by her, with the exception of the ring close-up collage).

If the photographer hadn’t been there, I wouldn’t remember much of the event, because I sort of blacked out.

I didn’t cry until the next morning. I simply could not process emotion.

I was so shocked by it all that when I finally noticed the photographer, I thought it was just a lucky coincidence that someone was already taking pictures in the park, and that she must have seen him get down on one knee and came over to capture it. (Duuuuuumb Cassie.)

At several points throughout the night after the proposal, I felt SUPER uneasy and couldn’t figure out why. I realized later it was because everyone around me had known all about the plan and was just chatting away and celebrating, and I just wanted everyone to stop making memories and shut up for a minute so I could catch up and process what was going on.

Mine and John’s families met for the first time the night of the proposal, and spent a lot of time together over that weekend, and they meshed so, so perfectly. John’s family was so excited and welcoming of my family; my family was so excited and appreciative of the hospitality…it was perfect.

The Ring

It’s a rubellite tourmaline surrounded by pink sapphires set in rose gold, custom-designed and created by the popular and talented jeweler (and our friend), Ernesto Moreira.

I very much did not want a diamond, mostly for ethical reasons, and John and I decided together to go with a rubellite tourmaline–but he and Ernesto did everything else, so the actual ring was a surprise. (I love love love it and it’s so very “Cassie.”)

The stone is from a German-owned Brazilian mine which enforces safe working conditions (that was my #1 priority).

We met Ernesto through a Craigslist transaction–John bought some file cabinets from him. Like, well over a year ago.

Ernesto is Cuban and John’s dad is Cuban, so a bond formed immediately, and a friendship grew from that point.

The Emotion

I’ve never, ever felt so much happiness in me as I did seeing our families interact, and having my family here to see my Houston life.

My dad’s support of our relationship–the enthusiasm he shows for it, the respect he has for John, the love he has for me–brings about an almost overwhelming feeling of…I don’t even know. Just so much emotion. I kept saying “warms my heart” to describe experiences that weekend, and it annoyed me because it’s not something I would typically say, but it really captures the feeling. So, I guess, my dad’s support of our relationship–it warms my heart.

My mom got choked up when she described the change everyone saw in me when John entered my life, and that moment represented so much. I’ll never forget it.

My sister beamed with joy the whole weekend and my usually-quiet brother talked my ear off about being excited for us and for John to be an official member of the family. (I can’t even…NICENESS OVERLOAD right now as I write this, y’all.)

John and I cried together twice that weekend, when it was just us two, both times listening to songs that remind us of our relationship.

You know how people describe someone as having a certain look in their eye? I know what that means now, because John literally looked at me differently that weekend. Like he loved the crap out of me.